


Sunburn

by niniblack



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, PWP, Paschal's salves fix everything, Sunburns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8905774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack
Summary: “It’s just a bit of sunburn,” Damen says that evening. “It will be better in the morning.”
Laurent eyes Damen’s olive skin, which has been turned a shade darker by the sun without any redness in sight. What does he even know about sunburns?
Nothing, it turns out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Summer Palace excerpt we got this week made it known that Laurent gets sunburns in Ios, and really, that was just begging to have some fic written about it.
> 
> I'm super good at titles, as you can see.

Ios in summer is gorgeous. Sweltering, but gorgeous, with bright sunshine glinting off the white walls of the palace and filtering through the open windows into the courtyards, and the salty scent of the sea on the breeze that ruffles the sheer curtains in the windows.

Laurent’s wears a chiton one day, partly because everyone else is wearing one but mostly because it is _hot_ , and he’s grown tired of sweating through his clothing before breakfast is even over.

Damen stares when he sees it, wide-eyed, which Laurent can admit is also part of why he chose to wear one.

By mid-afternoon, he’s starting to regret this clothing choice as well. The heat of the sun prickles along his exposed skin, turning it pink and itchy.

“It’s just a bit of sunburn,” Damen says that evening. “It will be better in the morning.”

Laurent eyes Damen’s olive skin, which has been turned a shade darker by the sun without any redness in sight. What does he even know about sunburns?

Nothing, it turns out, because Laurent’s skin is even redder in the morning. He goes back to wearing Veretian clothes, despite the heat and the uncomfortable way they rub at his sensitive skin, in an effort to avoid making it worse.

He doesn’t mention anything to Damen, but that evening after he’s undressed Damen pulls out a small container and says, “I asked Paschal for a salve, for your sunburn.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Laurent says.

Damen takes hold of his wrist, fingers closely loosely around the cuff Laurent wears, and rubs some of the salve into Laurent’s forearm. It feels wonderful, the instant cold on his skin providing relief from the burning heat.

Damen keeps rubbing it onto his arm and up across his chest, before doing the same to his other arm. He doesn’t speak, and as Laurent stands there and lets him work it reminds him sharply of the baths, and of Damen smoothing a soapy rag across his back.

“Lie down,” Damen says. “I’ll do your back.”

Laurent lies down, and Damen climbs onto the bed behind him. Laurent is very conscious of Damen’s larger body hovering over his, but all Damen does is smooth more of the cool salve across his shoulders.

He works his way down Laurent’s back, then skips down to his legs, starting at his ankles and working his way up. When he’s smoothing his hands over Laurent’s upper thighs, fingers brushing against his ass, Laurent says, “I don’t think that part was exposed to the sun.”

He can hear the smirk in Damen’s voice, “No, it wasn’t.” His palms run over Laurent’s cheeks, massaging and spreading him open. One finger brushes over his hole.

Laurent shifts his weight onto his knees, raising his hips slightly, in a silent invitation.

Damen’s hands retreat briefly, before returning with more of the salve on them. It’s shockingly cold against Laurent’s skin, and he can’t keep his gasp at the contact contained.

“Cold?” Damen asks, amused.

Laurent waves a hand back to swat at him. “Use the real oil.”

Damen obliges, leaning across the bed to reach the small table and the stoppered bottle that sits atop it. His fingers return coated in oil, which is cool against Laurent’s skin at first as well, but warms quickly.

Laurent lifts himself further onto his knees as Damen works first one, then two fingers in. The stretch is pleasant, and it’s more the thought of it than the actual sensation that sends a spike of arousal through Laurent’s body.

Damen crooks his fingers, brushing against that spot inside that makes Laurent see stars. Laurent moans, pressing his lips against his arm in an effort to muffle the noise. The pressure leaves a white impression against his skin before it fades back to red.

Damen works a third finger in, and after a minute of that Laurent says, “I’m ready, come on.”

“But I like this part,” Damen protests. 

His fingers retreat, and Laurent can hear him getting more oil and slicking his cock. He leans forward over Laurent, his thighs nudging against Laurent’s own and one arm bracing against the sheets at Laurent’s side. Then the head of his cock is nudging at Laurent’s hole, and the stretch is sharper, wider than his fingers had been. Laurent groans, consciously relaxing himself as Damen pushes in. The full feeling as Damen settles into place is wonderful, and not something Laurent ever feels like he can quite describe. The physical feeling is pleasurable, but it’s also the fact that it’s _Damen_ that makes it so good.

He grinds his hips back, forcing Damen’s cock further in, and earning a groan from Damen at the movement. Damen takes hold of Laurent’s hips and pulls back out, nearly all the way, before sliding back in.

Unfortunately, Laurent realizes the position isn’t going to work after just a few minutes. The backs of his knees are stinging sharply from the sunburn, folded as they are, and he can feel every wrinkle in the sheets making indentations against his skin and rubbing uncomfortably.

“Wait, wait,” he says, and Damen still immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Damen asks, concerned.

Laurent tries to think of a position that will work. On his back won’t be much better, then his legs would be hooked over Damen’s shoulder, which will still rub the skin. Sitting up, with Damen on his back? But no, that presents the same problem of having his knees bent, and Damen always like to grab Laurent’s thighs in that position, and the tops of them are one of the worst burnt parts of him.

Laurent turns his head and catches sight of one of the chairs sitting by the table in the corner, and thinks it through for a moment before deciding that yes, that will work. It will rub the backs of his thighs, but they’re not the problem.

“Laurent,” Damen says, tone questioning. “Are you--”

“Go sit on that chair,” he tells Damen.

Damen pulls out, sitting back on the bed, and Laurent twists around to observe the completely baffled expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Damen asks again.

“Nothing,” Laurent says. When Damen clearly doesn’t believe him, he says, “The sunburn hurts. Go sit on the chair. I want to try something.”

Damen doesn’t move. “Are you going to tell me what it is first?”

Laurent sits up and leans forward, pressing a brief kiss against Damen’s lips. “You’ll find out.”

Damen grumbles about it, but does as he’s told. Once he’s seated on the chair, Laurent walks up to him and straddles his thighs.

He was right. So long as Damen keeps his hands to himself this position will work.

“Oh,” Damen says, voice low and breathy, as Laurent pushes at his shoulders to make him slouch down in the chair a bit. It takes some maneuvering to get them into position, but then Laurent is able to raise himself up, use a hand on Damen’s cock to line them up, and slide back down.

Damen groans, long and loud, as his cock sinks into Laurent’s body, and Laurent would smirk, but he’s too busy with a groan of his own. Damen’s hands come up to rest on Laurent’s waist, and since that part isn’t sunburned Laurent allows it.

He uses his toes against the floor and his hands braced on Damen’s shoulder to raise himself up again, nearly off of Damen’s cock, before dropping back down. The slap of his skin against Damen’s is loud and obscene, and only gets more lewd as it speeds up. Damen’s hands tighten around Laurent’s waist, lifting him up and down with enough strength that Laurent’s toes barely skim the floor.

“You were right,” Damen gasps out, leaning forward to nuzzle at the side of Laurent’s neck, his lips brushing Laurent’s skin.

Laurent’s right about most things, so he asks, “About what?”

“The chair,” Damen says. He presses a sloppy kiss to Laurent’s neck, teeth grazing, and Laurent tilts his head to give him better access.

“Oh,” Laurent says. “Yes, this was a very good idea of mine.”

Damen laughs, and cants his own hips up to meet Laurent’s, making Laurent gasp. His cock brushes against that spot again, and Laurent can’t hold back his moan.

Laurent’s own erection has been rubbing against Damen’s stomach, leaving behind a mess of pre-come, but he reaches down now to wrap a hand around it. He doesn’t even have to try to time his strokes to Damen’s thrusts, they’re pressed so closely together that every time Damen lifts him up forces Laurent’s hand to move. It’s not much longer before Laurent can’t hold back anymore, and the pleasure that’s been building inside him spills over in a rush. His whole body tightens up, clenching around Damen’s cock, and Damen’s moan is louder than Laurent’s.

He falls forward as he comes down, forehead resting against Damen’s shoulder. Damen keeps fucking him through it, their bodies jostling on the chair.

Laurent turns his face to press a kiss against Damen’s collarbone. “Damen…”

Damen uses his grip on Laurent’s waist to slam their hips together and groans, body stilling as he comes.

They remain like that for a few minutes, both feeling sated and boneless, until Laurent shifts and grimaces at the overall sticky feeling. He leans back, and Damen helps him off his lap and onto his feet. Laurent’s legs feel like jelly as he walks towards the other side of the room, where a small basin of water sits, next to both cups and towels.

Once he’s clean, and he’s tossed the towel at Damen so he can clean himself up too, Laurent collapses back onto the bed. His skin still feels too hot and sensitive, but he finds that the orgasm has made him care about it a lot less. The sheets are wonderfully cool against his skin.

Damen climbs onto the bed next to him and sprawls onto his stomach, throwing one arm over Laurent.

“Oh no,” Laurent says, pushing him away. “It’s too hot for that.”

“Too hot… We just had sex.”

“Yes,” Laurent says. “And it’s too hot for you to lay on top of me now.”

Damen rolls onto his back, pouting. Laurent reaches over to trace his fingers over Damen’s chest, touch teasingly light enough to raise goosebumps. Damen catches his wrist, holding it loosely. “I really can’t touch you?”

“Maybe you could rub some of that salve on me again.”

Damen quirks an eyebrow, and Laurent swats at him. “Just the salve,” he says, even though he knows it likely won’t be just the salve.

Later, Laurent consents to letting Damen pull him close before they fall asleep.

The next morning, Laurent discovers the hickey that Damen left on his neck, and another reason to stick to his Veretian clothing, no matter the heat.


End file.
